Wandering
by CJane
Summary: Set after "No Way Out," Greg questions his career path.


**NOTE: Please be gentle, this is my first CSI fiction. Add to that, I haven't written fiction in over 7 years. Also, I noticed after I first posted this that people may think the title should be "Wondering" instead of "Wandering." The choice was deliberate.**

Wandering aimlessly, he barely noticed the few stumbling drunks who had lost track of both time and money in the neighboring casinos. It had been a long night followed by a rough day, leading directly into his next shift. He could barely remember the last time he had seen his bed. Greg shoved his hands deeper into the front pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched, and trudged along the littered sidewalk.

On mornings like these, he wished he had some sort of release; some way of shaking off the weight of the things he saw on a nightly basis. He was beginning to understand how Sara was able to walk away from her career as a CSI with barely a glance backwards. He was also starting to see how Grissom could follow after her. The team, or rather what was left of the team, had taken on a new demeanor. The light-hearted camaraderie intermingled with the stress, the emotion, the tension of especially difficult cases, was gone. While he liked working with Ray and Riley, the ease of being with "family" was gone. The lab explosion, followed by his beating, and the numerous horrific cases, had taken a lot out of Greg over the past few years. But not nearly as much as what they'd suffered in the past 12 months. He knew he'd lost his ability to crack a joke – regardless how tasteless – or flirt mercilessly with anyone, a long time ago. His physical appearance as well as muted actions, had been toned down for years. It wasn't until Warrick's death and the departures of Grissom and Sara that he realized the "old Greg" was gone for good.

He was tired. Tired of smiling when there wasn't anything left to smile about. Tired of being the one his co-workers looked to for a small reprieve when things got rough. The death of Jason Morely drove this home. He didn't know why he felt driven to go back to see Jason's father. He just knew he had to. He was tired of seeing people on "the worst day of their lives" and tired of seeing the innocent suffering at the hands of others. Tired. Ready to move on? That was one question he wasn't quite ready to answer.

He knew in his gut when he wanted to move out of the lab and into the field. His overwhelming urge to be part of something bigger pushed him to pursue this career change. Now, he was just unsure. Had he made the right decision? He was pretty sure it was the right decision at the time. He loved learning new forensic techniques, interacting with new people, and getting out of the confines of the lab. He loved the rush of putting the final puzzle piece into place and the high associated with being the one responsible for solving the crime.

The joy, however, was gone. Lately, he wandered how long it had been missing. Had he just noticed or had he slowly been acclimated over the course of years? Greg sighed, dug his car keys out of his right pocket and turned back towards the lab and his waiting car. He opened the driver's side door and slid his lanky body into the front seat. It was still early enough that the roads were empty, but the bright Vegas sun had already started it's assault on the city and unsuspecting tourists. He couldn't wait to get home and sink into the abyss of his soft bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

Exhausted from his shift, and the early morning wanderings, Greg fumbled to get the right key in the lock before opening the front door. Not stopping to untie his laces, he kicked his sneakers off in the middle of the hallway and tossed his jacket onto the back of the sofa in the living room. As he stumbled towards the bedroom, he left a trail of clothes – socks, jeans, t-shirt – in his wake.

Greg paused before quietly climbing onto the bed and slipping under the covers. He saw how her hair splayed across the pillow; one stray piece covering her eyes. Gently, as not to wake her, Greg brushed that piece behind her ear; his fingers lingering for the briefest moment on her lips. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in and placed his lips on hers before settling onto his own pillow.

He smiled as she inched closer, her head finally nestling between his chin and chest.

"Good morning to you too"

**NOTE: I don't know who "she" is yet. At this point, you can fill that gap with whomever you want her to be.**


End file.
